


Resurrection

by RogueLioness



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, POV Multiple, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Veil Fall, implied sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: A love found, lost, and found anew.





	Resurrection

**_Undetermined point of time, Post Fall_ **

There was a kind of bliss in this state of ignorance.  She went where she willed, moved as she wanted to, and though she was alone she was never lonely.

There was nothing for her to seek out, for there was nothing to find. Whatever had caused the chaos in the land of the waking, where the people walked, had destroyed all of the memories the land of the dreaming once held.

There were wisps, whispers of what once was, slivers of ideas and emotions, and through them all she waded. She was aware she was bigger, larger, more substantial; but at the same time she felt small and infinestimal, a raindrop in the ocean, a smudge on the ground.

She did not know what either of those meant, but it seemed to fit, and so she tucked those words away carefully.

Though there were others like her, she had rarely encountered any; for they preferred to move closer to the Waking, drawn to the myriad emotions that flashed across the land. Of all who went, none returned.

Almost none.

There had been one who had called himself Valor; he went to the Waking and when he returned, he was fractured and broken, large, wicked, jagged slashes of darkness covering his form.

When she saw the darkness on him, she stayed away.

He called her names, ugly ones like _coward_ and _weakling_ , accused her of not caring of the plight of those in the Waking.

It was true. She did not care for those in the Waking, and told him so.

Why should she, when they spared little thought for those who roamed the Dreaming?

He left, and she knew he returned to the place where he caught the darkness.

He didn’t return.

She hadn’t expected him to.

There were pulls from the Waking; emotion called out to her, but she wanted no part of the anger and the fear, the rage and despair. The Waking held nothing that appealed to her, harboring as it did hopelessness and regret, guilt and misery. Oh, there were tugs from those  had courage and command and faith, but they were fleeting; a candle flame in the midst of a gale, too-soon snuffed out.

She tucked those words away, too.

She wondered what she should call herself. There seemed to be no word for what she harbored within herself, and though she searched, and searched, she could not find anything amidst the words she kept for herself.

She moved deeper into the Dreaming, where the quiet was.

* * *

**_4:72 Post Fall_ **

The Waking was less turbulent now, and far quieter. She’d grown curious enough to wander close to the land, watching the people who walked the surface.

They gathered amidst bits of broken rock and stone, sharp, shiny objects - _weapons_ , she learned, as well as their names _staff, sword, spear, bow_ \- but they did not fight like she had thought they would.

The began to fix the broken, covering holes with more stone, smoothing out the surface of the land, creating _homes_ and _roads_ ; and they then used those shiny objects to help them work the land, digging into it to carefully place seeds within the earth; she watched with them as the plants began to grow, green and verdant and pure, carefully tended to by the people who looked so tired, but were content with the little they had.

So many new emotions here; _hope_ and _joy_ and _peace_ , and she was drawn to them like a moth to a flame (she put those words away).

There were two in particular she watched with increasing regularity - one called _man_ and the other _woman_ , and they smiled at each other with kindness, and touched each other with care, and something bloomed between them that she did not recognize - but _oh_ , this was new, this sharp jerk within her, this, this-

Want?

She let the word roll around her consciousness, and rejected it, it did not fit, it was too light, too watery.

Desire?

That was not the word she was searching for, but it fit better than any other she had within her. She became fond of those two, and even though it made her ache with the yearning of the something she did not understand, she could not look away.

She still did not know what to call herself, but she imagined that the achey, yearning emotion, if it had a name, was what she would call herself.

But the peace was not to last.

One day, a woman with wild hair and eyes filled with madness rode in on a steed. She had a red, red bow which was filled with darkness, and there were many people behind her. They tore down the walls, and cut open the people within them, and she watched as all that had been was stained the same red as the bow that the woman held.

She fled before the woman could see her, but it was too late.

There was a link now, a leash between her and the Waking. She cried for the two who had had such softness between them, and raged at the woman.

* * *

**_5:01 Post Fall_ **

The woman with the red bow was dead, and also the woman with the white hair and unseeing eyes who drew monsters with her fingertips.

There were so few people left in the Waking.

The last one she saw was different. He was like the woman with the red bow, but different. He was angry at with the woman for killing the people. He called her dangerous, and struck her down.

He cried when she was dead.

Something about him called out to her, so she ventured closer.

He was hurt, wounded badly - in form, yes, but also within. Something about him was broken almost beyond repair, and she thought back to Valor. But this man was not Valor, he was Pride, and when she touched his mind she _hurt_. She saw things that she did not want to see, good things, bad things, but none of those caused her pain; it was that same ache-y yearning feeling she had experienced so many years ago, but mixed with regret and guilt.

He had had what she wanted, but he had discarded it; cruelly, it seemed, and now he wished he had not.

He seemed to sense her intrusion into his mind, and stiffened; then he turned around and saw her, and though his eyes were swollen from his tears, they still widened in shock.

She escaped into the Dreaming before he could stop her.

* * *

**_5:68 Post Fall_ **

The calls were growing louder each day, and no matter where she went she could get no peace.

Pleading, and begging, and yearning, she didn’t know who it was who kept calling, but she was too afraid to find out.

It surrounded her, covered her, made it hard for her to walk in the Dreaming; it was as though her feet were shackled to impair her movement.

_Please_

_My love_

_My heart_

_I’m sorry_

_Forgive me_

_I need you_

They echoed over and over in the Dreaming, finding her no matter where she went, wrapping themselves around her, choking her chest and clogging her throat; she was angry at whoever it was, angry at their impudence at tethering her so; at the same time, she could feel their despair, and it wounded her to not be able to soothe it away.

She was filled with a vague sense of betrayal when the calls were the loudest; that she was what she was - this formless, nameless being - because of them. And yet her anger was always tempered by that same yearning, and she could not understand why.

(Many years ago, she had encountered a spirit of Love, and it had told her that the yearning feeling she felt was that of love - she wanted love, and that was why she yearned for it. She had scoffed at Love, for what did it know? It could not make up its mind as to what it wanted to be, one minute it was fleeting and the next it was everlasting - why would she take advice from such a capricious thing?)

But she could not escape it.

So many chains now, so many tethers to the Waking. She had broken her own rule, and now she was paying the price. She tried to claw her way back into the deepest Dreaming, where the quiet was, but she was being pulled unceasingly.

Ruthlessly - almost - and though she was frightened she was not panicked. It felt inevitable.

Awareness gave way to consciousness in a hard clap of thunder that rumbled from within her. There was pain now, _physical_ , all-encompassing, as the Dreaming mingled with the Waking and _solidified_ to give her form.

The skies above her crackled with unearthly lighting in shades of green and blue and silver, but she was too busy with _living_ to be aware of it.

There was _too much_.

 _Breathe_. She gasped  when something within her began to burn; instantly filled with relief as her lungs filled with fresh, cool air.

 _Breathe_. The burning started again, and she exhaled automatically.

 _Breathe_. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

She learned how to breathe.

It was strange, and new, and she did not know why she did it, only that there would be a burn within her if she did not.

Once she understood that, and made peace with it, she began to focus on other things. Like how the ground felt beneath her feet; it was hard, and there was a dull pressure where her form met the ground.

The wind swept up against her form, and she shivered.

She moved her limbs; left leg, then right, raising one than the other, rotating her foot as she examined it. She raised her hands to her face, examining fingers and palm; used one hand to feel the other, poking and prodding at the softness of the flesh covered by skin.

None of it made sense, and the unfamiliarity of it all, the newness of it all made her panic. She looked around in jerky motions, unsure of what to do and where to go. She had watched the people wander the Waking but she knew not what to do now that she was here. Now that she was _part_ of them.

She did not think she wanted to be one of them.

She turned her face towards the Dreaming, closing her eyes and willing herself to go back to where she came from, but-

Nothing.

There was no way for her to return that she knew of.

The cold air slammed mercilessly against her, and she could not stop shivering. Instinctively, she sat on the ground and curled up into herself, wrapping her arms around her core to ward off the chill as best as she could.

She didn’t know what to do, she was lost; and worse-

she couldn’t hear the calls anymore.

* * *

**_5:68 Post Fall,  Vare’eir’man, Syl’vun’in, early morning._**

It had been a strange day, with the weather moody and temperamental. The few spirits that roamed his lands seemed unsettled and restless, moving around anxiously as though something were about to happen.

He approached Knowledge, hesitating a moment before he asked why the sky was so tumultuous.

“ _Too loud_ ,” the spirit replied. “ _She will fall_.”

He tensed, a quick burst of anger flaring within him.

It appeared as though someone had been attempting to summon a spirit - and worse, had succeeded.

He had a feeling he knew who the culprit was.

“Where?” he questioned.

“ _Close. Chained by the calls, bonded to form. She is falling._ ” Knowledge raised an ethereal hand to indicate the sky that was flashing with all the shades of blue and green and silver he’d ever seen. He averted his eyes, not wanting to see a spirit take form so violently.

It was always done in private, in quiet and in peace. For something like this to happen - it was a travesty.

“Can you take me there?” he asked politely, relieved when the spirit nodded.

It did not take him much time to gather supplies - clothing, blankets, food, healing potions and salves - he took them all, not knowing what he would need, and followed the spirit.

It was a long walk - longer than he had expected, he was by the seashore by the time Knowledge slowed his pace - before he came across signs of a Shaping. The air was colder, and there was more of the Fade around him. He walked deeper into the white fog, and there, at the heart of it, he found her. Curled up into a ball under a once-dead tree that now bloomed prettily with yellow flowers, she raised panic-filled eyes to his, her body stiffening with alarm when she saw she was not alone. Behind her, the Waking Sea slammed against the shore, the sound loud, and rumbling, and ominous. The scent of sea-salt filled the mists that swirled around them.

She was cold, he could tell. Even from this distance he could make out the way she was shaking uncontrollably.

“Be at peace,” he tried to stay calm, “I am here to help you. Are you cold?”

He watched as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. Several moments passed before she nodded in reply.

“I have something that will help. May I approach you?” Knowledge, in the meantime, had flitted up to her; the spirit murmured to her, and a golden glow passed from the spirit and flowed into the newly Shaped. She slowly calmed, though her eyes never left his.

Her eyes were enchanting, mesmerizing, blue and green swirled together within a ring of silver; the reminded him of opals,  as though the fade and the sky had met and melded.

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was strong, like the turbulent sea behind her.

He moved towards her slowly, carefully, as one would approach a wild animal. As he made his way towards her, she stood, and he could not help but admire her form - only for a moment before he averted his gaze, but it was enough.

She was tall and slender, muscular in a way that indicated that she had once been athletic [though he did not know how long ago that had been]. Tanned, golden skin spoke of years in the sun, and her hair, darker than soot and gleaming in the dim light, fell below her breasts, covering them.

He handed her the simple tunic, giving her her privacy as she followed his instructions on how to don it. When the footwraps he had procured for her proved too much of a challenge for her, he gently bid her to sit, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and knelt on the ground to wrap them around her feet himself.

It was as intimate a setting as one could get in these times, and he was all-too-painfully aware that it was a newly Shaped he was aiding; he had to be careful, lest he bonded to her - or worse, caused her to bond to him.

When he was done, he stood, gently helping her to her feet, watching as she tested out her new footwear.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked gently.

She raised those vibrant opaline eyes to his. “The Waking,” she answered with a frown, eyes darting around as though she were searching for something. “The calls -” She turned to him again. “Too many. Too loud. But-” her eyes searched the landscape again, “I do not hear them any more.”

Which meant whoever had summoned her was probably aware of her presence now, and was likely searching for them. The need to get her to a safe place was suddenly overwhelming.

“I need to get you to safety,” he tried to impress upon her the need for urgency without alarming her. “I have a house nearby. Can I take you there?”

He received that piercing gaze of hers yet again. A tiny furrow formed between her brows, but she nodded.

He cleared his throat, unsure of whether or not to ask the question. A moment later, it slipped forth, curiosity lending it haste. “Do you have a- that is…” He stopped, and started over. “May I know what to call you?”

She paused midway through her examination of the clothing she was wearing. “I- I do not know.” She looked over to where he was, panic writ on her face. “I never had- I- I don’t-”

“Hush,” he soothed gently. “You do not have to think of this now. We have plenty of time.”

It did not seem to ease her agitation. “I-” she paused. “What are you called?”

He hesitated. “El’u’en,” he said at last. “But there are many who call me Dirthamen.”

She cocked her head to the side, eyes lit with interest. “What would you have me call you?”

It was strange, having someone ask him what he preferred. For so long all had called him by the name that he bore when he was a God.

When he made so many grave mistakes.

He swallowed. “El’u’en. I- call me El’u’en.”

“El’u’en.” He watched as her lips moved, as she tested the way the syllables rolled off her tongue. She smiled at him, a small one.

A hitch in his chest when he realized it was her first one.

“What would you call me?” she asked, curious. “If you were to give me a name?”

He could not help being taken aback. None of the Shaped he had encountered before had asked that question. He took it as the honor it was, and gave it a great deal of thought.

“Theneras,” he said at last. “A waking dream.”

She smiled again, wider, pleasure making her eyes glow. “Theneras. I like it.” She nodded decisively. “I shall call myself Theneras.”

Was he supposed to feel this- this- this strange _pride_? He caught his tongue between his teeth before he could ruin the moment with unnecessary words.

“Where is your house?” she asked, unaware of his thoughts.

“It is quite a way from here,” he explained, “but we will be there by sundown. Come,” he swept his hand  to the side, indicating where the path was. Knowledge was the first to depart, and she followed closely behind; he fell into step with her, maintaining a respectable distance so as not to overwhelm her.

* * *

**_5:68 Post Fall, Vare’eir’man, Syl’vun’in, late afternoon_ **

It was _wrong_.

The land was not what she had thought it was. It was  dismal, depressing; a deadened, darkened zone that stretched across for as long as the eye could see. It was all shades of brown, with very little green to break the landscape.

Magic hung in the air, disjointed and disconnected, the result a disorganized cacophony of bits and pieces of remnant spells cast ages ago. Wisps flitted about, carrying memories halved and haphazard.

It was a broken world, and it was wrong.

She could not understand why she felt like she _knew_ that where she walked was once lush and verdant; fragments of thoughts rushed into her consciousness and left with equal haste, leaving in its wake a confusion that grew with every step she took.

She turned her head to the man at her side. He was one of the people, long, elegant, graceful ears that tapered to a point at the end. Pale-skinned, like the moons in the sky, hair as brown as the bark of a tree.

He twitched, as though he felt her stare, and glanced at her.

Eyes the color of the solid earth beneath her feet, and just as warm - but within them was the  darkness of secrets and sorrow. She could feel the regret within him, and wondered if all the people who walked the Waking had the same remorse within them.

“This is wrong,” she said, searching his face, grateful for the gift of language Knowledge had given her.

He frowned. “What is?”

“This.” She pointed at the land all around. “It is not meant to be this way. What happened?”

“How do you know it is not meant to be this way?” he deflected.

She cocked her head to the side, caught her lip between her teeth. “I just know,” she declared after a short pause.

He sighed, heavy and heartfelt. “The land has seen much war,” he stated sorrowfully. “It has yet to recover.”

She processed the information he had given her. War must have been like when the lady with the red bow cut open the people who hid in their homes.

“Why was there so much war?” she asked.

Her companion was quiet for a long time. She continued to watch the brown.

“It is a long story,” he said at last. “Perhaps you should settle in some more before we talk about it.”

She frowned. “Was it the lady with the red bow? She was cruel. I didn’t like her. She cut open the people. She shouldn’t have.”

A sad smile sprung to his lips. “No, she shouldn’t have,” he agreed.

She stopped in her tracks. “Are you like that lady?” she demanded.

He turned to her, and she could see him struggling. For what, she did not know. “I-” he sighed, shoulders slumping. “I once was. But no longer.”

She backed away from him. “You cut people?”

He held his hand out towards her, pleading, beseeching. “I was wrong, I know. I regret what I did. I would take it back if I could. Please, you have to believe me.”

The rough bark of a long-dead tree hit her back. “Why?”

He made no move to approach her. “Because-” he swallowed, and she could see the lump in his throat bob up and down. “Because if I was like Andruil - if I was like that, I would have cut you when I first saw you.”

She eyed him with suspicion. She had little experience with- with being Shaped, as he had called it.

Knowledge approached her once again. “ _He hurts,”_ it whispered to her. “ _Haunted by the horrors he dealt with his hands. Reaches for redemption, he seeks peace from his regret and remorse.”_

“Is he the one who Called me?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on his form.

“ _T’was the Wolf who wailed and wept, not he.”_

She waited and watched him for a while. He stood where he was, never breaking her gaze. She tried to read him as best as she could, and felt the sincerity of his statement.

She nodded. “I believe you.” She walked back to him.

“I am sorry,” he said, though he did not say for what.

They continued their trek, stopping only when her throat itched and her belly ached. El’u’en offered her food and water, taught her about hunger and thirst, and how to eat and drink.

His hands were warm when he held hers, as he showed her how to bring the food to her mouth.

The warmth made her smile.

He pulled his hand away when she smiled at him. She didn’t understand, but she didn’t know how to ask a question that was a feeling.

She reached out slowly, and touched his skin. It was warm. She touched her skin. It was not quite as warm.

When they continued, she slipped her hand into his.

He looked at her sideways, then looked at their joined hands, then looked at her again. He sighed.

He held her hand.

It was warm. She was warm.

* * *

**_5:68 Post Fall, Em’syla’man, Lean’vun’in_ **

There was much to learn about the Waking.

Like the fact that this house she was in, was not a house. It was a fortress.

She asked El’u’en what the difference was. “A house is for those who do not fight,” he said. “A fortress is for those who do.”

“I do not wish to fight,” she said. “Where is a house I can go to?”

He sighed. “There are- there are no houses around, Theneras. There has been much war. All who remain - they have all been touched by war.”

“But I have had no part in this war of yours,” she argued. “I should have a house.”

“I cannot send you to a house,” he tried to explain. “It- it is dangerous. There are too many demons around. They might find you, and take you for themselves. They will hurt you, and try to turn you into one of them.”

The demons, she learned, had been Shaped after being Called, but they had done terrible things and had become corrupted, and were now things of evil.

She told him about Valor. He nodded, his face resigned and sad.

“I am sorry about your friend,” he said.

“I am too,” she replied, and they fell into silence.

He took her around the fortress. It was large, with many winding corridors and empty rooms too-haunted by memories. There were few of the people within the walls, and they looked haggard and tired, many of them filled with bitterness and loss. They gave her curious looks, but El’u’en would not let them talk to her.

She asked him why.

“It is too soon,” he stated simply. “When you become more acquainted with the world, it will be easier for you.”

She thought of the guard high up on the rampart walls, and how much grief he carried within him, and understood.

When the sun disappeared into the horizon, leaving  in its wake tiny dots of brilliance scattered in the sky, he guided  her to a room with a large table. They sat together for a meal he called dinner. There was meat, and dried fruit, and she enjoyed both, though he would not let her try the wine that he was drinking.

“Not yet,” he chided her gently.

They retired to a large room after the meal, one that was El’u’en’s private chamber. A warm fire cheerfully crackled away in the hearth. She sat close to the fireplace, greatly enjoying the heat. He sat a distance away from her, giving her enough space but keeping an eye on her.

“Tell me about the war,” she asked again.

Shadows created by the firelight danced across his face. She could sense his reluctance and his fear. She thought, for a moment, that he would dismiss her request.

“Please,” she added.

He sighed, heavy and hopeless. He told her the story of the Elvhen, of the lives they lived in slavery. He spoke of the Evanuris - Elgar’nan and Mythal, and their children, June, Andruil, Falon’Din and Dirthamen. (He looked at her when he spoke of Dirthamen. She did not react; she waited for him to continue. So he did.) He spoke of June’s love for Sylaise, and Andruil’s love for Ghila’nain, and he recounted how all of them had declared themselves Gods.

A pantheon, he called them, and finally he spoke of Fen’harel, the rebel, the Dread Wolf.

He recounted Mythal’s betrayal and murder (at their hands, he said, his head bowed, unable to look at her; and she thought back to the woman with the bow and madness in her eyes), and how the Dread Wolf tricked them and locked them away in the Fade. He mentioned the Veil that Fen’harel had created to serve as a prison for them, and how the rebel god had wanted to free their people.

“The Dread Wolf did not know the consequences of the Veil,” he explained. “The Elvhen were cut off from the Fade and from their magic. Beings that had been immortal began to quicken and die.” He spoke of the Wolf’s slumber, and subsequent awakening to a world greatly different from the one he had left. He described how Fen’harel, driven by guilt, sought to restore his people - the Elvhen - and blood-price he paid when he tore down the Veil.

She watched as El’u’en paused, as though the words were too heavy to leave his chest. There was a long, long silence, weighed down with all of his remorse and repentance. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw was clenched tight.

“When the Dread Wolf rent asunder the Veil,” he continued, slow and strained as though he were forcing the words out, “he set us free. And that was when the war started.”

The words came out quicker; he recounted the rage and betrayal he and his brethren had felt when they awoke to a strange world. How the need for vengeance all too soon gave way for a need to conquer. He told of armies gathered both willingly and with the use of force, and how the earth shook with the force of their battles. With each clash, a great deal of blood was spilt, and a great many lives were lost.

“It took far too long for me to see the extent of the devastation,” he quietly confessed, shaking his head. “The world was dying, and if nothing was done, if we did not stop, soon there would be nothing left.”

There were three of them now, he said, Fen’harel and Falon’din and himself, co-existing in an uneasy truce. “There is little fighting these days,” he continued. “But it is yet dangerous. Falon’din-” he shook his head, and sighed. “Do not venture outside of these walls,” he warned. “The demons that wander belong to Falon’din. You must not find yourself in his clutches.”

“Why?” she questioned.

He shook his head again, worry ripe in his eyes. “You must not. Please. Promise me you will not leave this fortress.”

“But-” she began to argue. (She liked to argue, she had discovered. There was a certain kind of satisfaction that came with being contrary).

“Please,” he said. “Promise me. It is for your own good, Theneras.”

There was concern in his words. She nodded. “I promise.”

“Good,” he said, relieved.

They sat in silence. He was lost in his thoughts, and she simply sat and examined the myriad emotions that flitted across his thoughts without intruding upon them. (Privacy was important, he’d explained to her gently when she tried to delve into his thoughts. It was rude to enter someone’s head without their permission).

She yawned, and he noticed.

“You need rest,” he rose, “it has been a long day.” Making his way to her, he helped her to her feet. “You should sleep.”

Sleep was an interesting concept. El’u’en explained that one shut their eyes, and when they did they would enter the Dreaming.

She was excited to enter the Dreaming once again. There had been too many new things, and there remained a great many more strange ones she had yet to encounter.  She was not sure she quite liked the Waking.

It was easy enough for sleep to overtake her.

* * *

**_5:68 Post Fall, Em’syla’man, Lean’vun’in, past midnight_ **

He was exhausted, drained emotionally in a way he had not been for a very long time. Talking about the war - and his role in it - only served to remind him just how grave his errors had been.

How heinous his deeds were.

He raised his hands, turning them over to examine his palms, and for a moment he thought that they were stained red.

As they had been many a time.

He pulled the blanket over the sleeping form of Theneras. She did not slumber peacefully, but he did not expect her to. Her Shaping had been violent, and it would reflect in her rest until she learned to accept her place in the Waking.

He felt that flash of anger once more as he thought to her Shaping. The rage of the waves as they crashed into shore, the fury of the wind as he made his way towards her-

Whoever had Called to her had done so with great emotion, and he could only think of one person who had enough of a temper to pull forth a spirit with such violence.

He left the room, shutting the door behind him, and retired to his study. With a great deal of reluctance, he pulled out his calling crystal from where it rested beneath his shirt. For a moment, he simply stared at it, debating with himself.

He inhaled, then exhaled in a huff. And with a whisper, activated it.

“Brother.” A cold, cunning voice drove the warmth away from the study. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do not take me for a fool, Daur’an,” he replied harshly. “You should not have done what you did.”

“And what is it that I have done?” Amusement colored the tone, but he could feel the sharpness around the edges of the words.

“You know very well what you did.” he retorted.

“I assure you, I do not. That is, unless you would care to refresh my memory?” Careless and mocking. El’u’en grit his teeth.

“You Called a spirit, Daur’an! And you did so without care or concern for the Shaping! I thought it was agreed that we would no longer disturb those in the Fade?”

Daur’an - or Falon’Din, as he preferred to be called - scoffed. “I did no such thing.”

“Do not _lie_ to me! Had I not observed the disturbance in the skies, I would have not noticed the Shaping! As it was I barely managed to reach her in time-” he was cut off.

“Her?” Falon’din’s voice was sharp with interest. “A woman?”

Something cold slithered into El’u’en’s stomach. He realized he had made a grave mistake. “So you did not send out the Call?” he tried to deflect.

It did not work. Daur’an laughed, a great deal of vicious glee in the sound. “A woman, Dirthamen? And one you seem  to care about already, it appears. How… _fascinating_ . Have you bonded to her? Yes? You have not, have you? That wouldn’t be the _gentlemanly_ thing to do .” He chuckled, low and menacing. “You must introduce me to her.”

“She is resting,” he replied stiffly, mentally berating himself for alerting Daur’an to the woman’s presence. It was all the more vital now that Theneras was kept safe. “Very well, Daur’an. I believe it was not you who made the Call. I will not keep you-”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon, brother?” Falon’din interrupted. “Without telling me more about this woman? What is her name? How does she look like?”

“Insignificant details,” he muttered, wrapping his palm around the crystal. Before he could end the conversation, his brother’s voice filled the room with an ominous reminder:

“ _You cannot keep her hidden away forever, El’u’en.”_

He let the crystal fall. It hit his chest with force, but he did not register the sting of it.

He was not sure what to do next.

* * *

**_5:69 Post Fall, Tua’sal’adahl’man, Shi’vun’in. Late evening._ **

The Waking was still a strange place, but she was getting used to the oddities. There was much to learn in the world, even if El’u’en lamented about all the knowledge that had been lost.

She still struggled with the limitations of having a physical form - hunger and fatigue had just been the beginning. There was the matter of identifying emotions, and learning how to deal with them.

She knew fear, and anger, and despair, and desire (in ways both good and bad, and it intrigued her that one emotion could have such a duality). She also knew compassion,  and hope, and joy (though it came in small bursts and did not last very long - she liked it the best of all, she thought). She made friends, and came to understand the sentiment behind the word.

She was a quick and eager pupil, and many a time she felt as though she was merely bringing to her attention matters that she already knew, but had forgotten.

She was on the ramparts again, ignoring the sea of brown before her in favor of the dancing lights in the sky. The Fade swirled through the air, a slow, lazy river of green, and she enjoyed watching wisps of all colors dance across. She caught the interest of several of them, and they glided gently down to where she stood. She reached out to touch one very carefully (El’u’en told her that the emotions she now had could damage them if she was not careful) and it nuzzled against her fingers, leaving a soft buzz in its wake.

She smiled, but it did not come from a place of happiness. The wisps understood her wistfulness, and stayed with her, until a noise from a distant corner caused them to flee.

She turned towards the source of the disturbance to find two people stumbling out of the shadows. She recognized them - Shiv’an and Ro’gath. She liked them, but sometimes they scared her with how much violence their hands had met. But they were not violent now, nor were they talking. Shiv’an had her arms wrapped behind Ro’gath’s neck, and her legs encircled his waist. Their faces were joined together, and she wondered how they were breathing.

She could not help but watch, even though she did not understand. The emotions that rolled off them were ones she had never encountered before; there was sweetness and pain and that ache-y-yearning feeling again, and suddenly it was too much for her to continue watching, so she fled.

“I saw Shiv’an and Ro’gath,” the words tumbled out of her in a huffed breath. “They were doing something, I don’t know what.”

El’u’en looked up from the letter he was reading with a smile. (she liked his smile. it made her feel the way his hand had felt wrapped around hers the day she Fell; warm and sweet) “What were they doing?”

She described it to him as best as she could, the wrapped arms and legs, the shared breathing (or lack of breathing; she could not understand how they were breathing when their mouths were stuck to each other and their noses touched). She told him of the sweetness, but with the pain and the ache-

“Stop,” he said, so she did. His face was blank, and his ears were red.

“Where did you see them?” he asked.

“On the ramparts,” she replied, confused.

“I will go talk to them.” He rose from his chair.

She tugged on his sleeve when he passed her. “Wait! You didn’t tell me what they were doing! What does it mean?”

He shook her hand off, and she took a step backwards, hurt. He sensed his error almost instantly, and turned to her. “I’m sorry,” he took her hand between both of his. “It is not that I do not wish to tell you, it’s just-” he broke off on a sigh. “It is not easy to explain.”

“Is it desire?” she asked.

His cheeks turned a faint pink. She wondered why. “I suppose in a way it is, yes.”

“So if I desire someone I must do what they did?” she said innocently.

Whatever he had been about to say before she spoke was lost instantly as he began to choke. A harsh sound poured out of his throat as he coughed out whatever had caused the temporary block. “No,” he replied hastily when he could speak again. “Do not. If you ever feel that way-” he began to cough again.

“Wait here,” he said, his face now red. “Please. I will- I will fix this.” He did not give her a chance to reply before he fled the room.

She waited, and waited,  getting into bed when her eyes began to droop, but he did not return.

She fell asleep.

* * *

**_5:69 Post Fall, Tua’sal’adahl’man, Shi’vun’in. Middle of the night._ **

He knew it had been cowardly of him to flee, but he could not for the life of him muster up the courage to explain to her the intimate act of love making.

A part of him knew that it was due to his selfishness; she was a refreshing breath of innocence in a world that was anything but, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as it was possible.

Which was utter stupidity, because she was now part of the Waking, and she would come to learn about it sooner or later.

He sighed. He would have to speak with Ro’gath and Shiv’an again, gentler this time. His embarrassment had made him overly harsh, and it was not their fault. They were taking what little pleasure they could find in this world, and he could not blame them for that. It was only natural, and it was only a matter of time before Theneras stumbled across someone in the middle of the act.

Still, he had been very unprepared for her question. _So if I desire something I must do what they did?_

A mental image of her locked in the most intimate of embraces with _him_ had entered his mind - and nearly ended him, it seemed, when it should not have. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and exhaled his embarrassment.  Keeping her sheltered was to no one’s benefit, certainly not hers.

Vowing to be as honest with her as he could without hurting her, he went into his room to check on her. He had offered her his lodgings for her use, content to catch his rest in the small bed he’d had placed in his study.

She was rolling around on the mattress restlessly, which was not unusual for her, but tonight there was the coldness of distress in the air around her form. He rushed to her side, and there were tear tracks on her cheeks, her forehead furrowed in anguish. Her lips were moving rapidly, but he could not make out what she was saying, and he moved closer, debating whether or not to waken her from her state of misery.

Though he knew it would be kinder to rouse her he could not help his curiosity. He needed to know what she was saying-

 _Sathan, ma’sa’lath_ \- elven, then, but a strange dialect, a stranger accent, and he did not know why ice began to form in the pit of his stomach -

_Please don’t do this! I love you! Listen to me, please, I beg you, please-_

Her form shuddered, the tears pouring faster from her eyes.

_Solas, I love you! Don’t do this to me, don’t do this to us. Please, please!_

There was something in his throat that scratched the inside. When had his blood felt this cold? He did not want to listen, but he could not stop himself from peering through the window that she had so inadvertently opened.

He reached out with his mind, and let it touch hers. It did not work like he had hoped it would.

Her eyes flew open, catching his, and she sat up with a jolt. The anguish in her eyes gave way to confusion, and she raised her hand to touch her face, frowning when her fingertips came away wet.

“I was crying?” her voice sounded thick, clogged as it was with the sounds of sadness that he had heard pour forth from her lips but moments ago.

“Yes.” He made to take her hand, stopped himself halfway. There was a name ringing in his head and it was not hers.

“Why?” she asked.

“You were having a nightmare, a bad dream. Do you remember what it was about?”

Her frown grew deeper. “There was a man. And-” Her nose crinkled in concentration. “There was sadness, a great deal of it. Too much of it. And anger? The woman, she was broken…” Theneras shook her head as though it were muddled. “I don’t remember anything more.” She looked at him. “I don’t like nightmares. Will they keep coming when I sleep?”

“I don’t know, Theneras.” And because she looked like she needed it - and because he _definitely_ needed it - he stroked her hair, letting the silken strands slide between his fingers. “Maybe. There’s no way to know.”

“I don’t like them,” she whined.

“I know. I don’t like them either.”

“Make them stop?”

“I wish I could.” He coaxed her to lie down again, pulled the sheets over her shoulders. “You should try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know. But you need to rest, Theneras.”

Her hand shot out and her fingers wrapped around his arm. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

There was something in that question, something in the way she said it and the echoes it carried that made it sound as though it was not her who was asking the question, not entirely; nor did it seem like he was meant to be the recipient of it.

He swallowed.

“I will stay, if you wish.”

Her eyes examined his face for the span of several breaths. Satisfied, she let go of his arm.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The chair was an uncomfortable place to rest, but the rest of her slumber was peaceful.

* * *

**_6: 35 Post Fall, Adahl’shena’man, Fel’vun’in._ **

“El’u’en.” A voice, sonorous and hesitant, flowed out of the crystal around his neck.

He stiffened, his fingers tightening their grip around the quill in his hand. He had known this day would come, but he had hoped, with a desperation that would have been amusing had it not been so pitiful, that it would have taken much longer to arrive.

He cleared his throat before bringing the crystal up to his face. “Solas.”

The man on the other end had a mellifluous voice, one that he himself had envied many a time. “How- I trust things are well with you?”

“As well as they could be. Progress is slow, and not always steady.”

“Very true.” There was a long pause.

“Was there a reason for this sudden contact, Solas?” he asked unhelpfully.

Solas cleared his throat on the other end. “Yes,” he said, his voice sounding stiff. “I was- there was-” A cough, followed by another clearing of the throat. “I was told that- that there had been a Shaping on your lands. I- I wanted to know if the reports were true?”

El’u’en bristled. For someone who had Called a spirit with such little care, the amount of disinterest that Solas’ tone portrayed was infuriating.

“You mean the one that _you_ Called forth?” he asked scathingly.

He expected a blustered denial, or cool indifference - anything really, other than the defeated sigh that poured out from the white crystal, filling the room with hopelessness and yearning all at once.

“It was my fault, yes,” Solas admitted quietly. “Though in what little defence I have to offer, I did not mean to do so. I was asleep. During my wanderings in the Fade-”

“You knew her,” El’u’en interrupted. “Or who she was.”

A long, long pause, and El’u’en could not but wonder at the circumstances under which they met. Given by Theneras’ nightmares-

“I met her centuries ago.” Solas’ confession startled him. “Before the Veil-” There was a breath drawn, shakily. “She was- she- she was important to me.”

“But you left her?” El’u’en did not understand why he derived such vicious pleasure from prodding the wound.

“I-” Solas sounded as though all air had been forced out of him. “Yes.” There was a great deal of shame in his voice. Another long pause. “How- how is she?”

“Why do you want to know, Solas? If she was important to you, as you claim, yet you left her side, and let her _die_ … I do not believe she was very important to you, after all.”

There was sound from the other end of the line that sounded very much like a choked sob, and for a moment all El’u’en could do was stare at the crystal in disbelief.

That could not have been Solas.

Solas- Solas _did not_ show emotion. Where Falon’din wielded emotion as yet another weapon, Solas used emotion - or the lack of it - as a shield.

In the Dread Wolf’s hands, it made a very good shield.

He did not know what to say to fill the silence, filled with sorrowful memories as it were. El’u’en wanted to pity him, but all he could think of was that cold, cold night when he stood by Theneras’ bed and heard her weep and beg- all because of the man who was called Pride.

“Solas?”

“I thought I was protecting her,” Solas confessed, his tone painfully raw. “I believed, very much mistakenly, that pushing her away from me would keep her safe from the dangers of what I sought to do.”

El’u’en was silent for a long while, attempting to process what he had heard. There were many questions that ran through his mind, and he voiced one of the loudest ones. “Who was she?”

Another choked sob from the other side of the line, followed by a drawn out, muted silence. He heard Solas take in a deep, shuddering breath before speaking again. “I knew her once, before I tore down the Veil,” he began. “She- she was an unwitting, unwilling victim to yet another error that I had made.” El’u’en listened to the tale of the Inquisitor - a young elf, the kind his people called the Dalish (with no small amount of derogation - they were, after all, not _true_ elves) Her name had been Sylvas, and hers had been the fate to have rescued Fen’harel’s orb from a malignant hand, and had been inadvertently rewarded his magic embedded into her hand.

His heart grew heavier with pity and dread as the tale continued of her trials and tribulations, of the evil and horrors she had had to face. How she was always but a foot’s length away from death. How the Dread Wolf’s indifference had given way to a grudging respect for her, and how the respect grew into something deeper, something sweeter. El’u’en struggled to keep listening as he heard of how much the pretty Dalish elf had loved Solas; something close to bitterness rose up his throat when he heard Solas talk of how he had broken Sylvas’ heart; first in a moonlit cave, after she confessed the depth of her feelings for him; second amidst the ruins of their people, after she had battled a would-be army in an attempt to get to him - to _save_ him as she’d so mistakenly believed - and after he had taken back the magic that he knew was slowly killing her, Pride had left her alone, again; third, as she pleaded with him to let her help him, stating they could, together, find another way; fourth, as she begged him not to walk the path that they both knew would kill her.

Even though El’u’en knew Solas’ tale did not end well, he was still caught off-guard to know that she had survived the Fall of the Veil; it had not been the flood of the Fade that had killed her, but the aftermath of the Wolf’s machinations. Her own people turned on her, believing her to have aided the Dread Wolf, and he came to know of the danger that she faced too late.

“No, that is a lie,” Solas remarked quietly after several seconds. “I had heard the rumors. I- I did not believe them. I did not expect her people - her friends - to react that way... Perhaps I should have. They were aware of her continued contact with me. I should have expected that they would suspect her of betrayal, after my plans succeeded.” He told of how he had searched for her spirit in the Fade for centuries, and how he had given up hope; but after his battle with Andruil he had a chance encounter with a spirit he realized was her.

“I did not realize how strong my feelings were; I believed I had them under control. I realize now that each time I walked the Fade during Dreaming I was thinking of naught but her - subconsciously, of course. I would never have wished such a violent Shaping for her, never, and yet, once again, she pays the price for my mistake.”

El’u’en stared into the dying embers in the fireplace. With a careless flick of his fingers, the flames sprung to life once more.

He sighed.

“I believe you speak the truth, Solas. Yet I do not know what you wish of me. It is apparent, to both of us, that you have not done well by this woman you speak of. What is it you want with her?”

Solas let out a defeated sigh, and El’u’en could almost see the man’s shoulders slump. “I do not know,” he admitted. “I- I would meet her, if she was not averse to it. To- to apologize. And perhaps- perhaps to explain. To offer her the truth to any questions she might have.”

El’u’en was tempted to refuse. He thought of the nightmares Theneras had, how heartbroken she had sounded.

He exhaled heavily. Theneras deserved to know why it was she had been Shaped against her will, and who it was who had Called her. She deserved to know about Sylvas.

She deserved the truth.

Even if he wished to protect her from the distasteful facts, it was not his decision to make. It was not his right to keep her from Solas.

He tried not to think of what he would do if she chose to go with the other man. He would not think of it.

He would not.

She was not a thing, that he could stake a claim over.

She was-

He stopped that thought before it could form.

“I- I will talk to her. I will- how would you have me explain your request to her?”

“Tell her- tell her I wish to apologize. And that I am willing to answer anything she asks of me.”

“That would make a very vague explanation, Solas.”

He could hear the small smile in the other man’s tone. “She has been having- her dreams have been difficult, of late. She- I believe she will understand.”

“You have seen her dreams?” El’u’en asked sharply.

“I do not intrude upon them,” Solas mollified. “It is- there are things she dreams of where- I do not believe she is aware that she is calling me, but she draws me into them.”

 _She had never drawn him into her dreams._ El’u’en tried to ignore the swift stab of hurt.

“Very well, Wolf. I will let her know your request, and inform you of her reply.” He cut the connection before Solas could answer; for some strange reason, he could not bear to listen to the other man’s voice any longer.

He thumbed the crystal for several long minutes before rising swiftly to his feet. After their conversation, he had the sudden urge to check on Theneras; he entered his bedroom and found her asleep. She looked to be at peace; and he could not help but think of all that she had suffered when she had walked the world as Sylvas.

He wanted to be angry at the Wolf. He wanted to believe that he would never do such things to a woman, much less one he loved.

El’u’en would not, he knew.

But Dirthamen would. And Dirthamen had.

He swallowed the lump of shame and guilt in his throat, and straightened the covers on Theneras.

He might have a new name now, might lead a new life. But he knew who he had once been.

He could not deny her the right to know her past.

He stayed by her side all night. There was a fear, deep within him, that he would not get the chance to in the near future.

* * *

_**6: 42 Post Fall, Adahl’shena’man, Fel’vun’in, Asan’uan**  _

They waited by the tree where she had first taken form. The skies were clear and blue, a hazy, lazy swirl of the Fade running through it. Even the Waking Sea was calm, the soft _swish_ of the waves meeting land pleasant and peaceful.

El’u’en was surprised by how calm Theneras was. He had worried that this place would bring back too many unpleasant memories for her, but-

He could not help but think back to their conversation.

It had been after dinner. She had been excited; the animal sanctuary she had started was coming along quite well, and the first of the nugs she had rescued had had its first litter.

It had been the first mortal birthing he had seen since-

Even now, the memory amazed him. So many centuries had passed since his brethren had attempted to take over the world; he had nearly given up on such a thing happening, yet it had - _because of her_.

He glanced to where she was standing, at the edge of the cliff, her head thrown back to the sky, a smile on her face as the sun turned her skin gold.

He could not help the misgiving that coiled unpleasantly in his stomach. It felt too much like a premonition - like this was a bad idea, that something was going to go wrong…

 _She deserves to know the truth,_ he reminded himself.

And she had wanted to. He had broached the subject tentatively, half-hoping that she would decline, but-

_“Theneras. There is… there is something I must ask you.”_

_She looked at him with clear eyes. “What is it?”_

_He cleared his throat. “There is-” He cleared his throat again. “There  is someone who wishes to meet you.”_

_She frowned. “I thought I had met everyone here?”_

_He shook his head. “No, not here. He- he lives far away, but he has heard of you, and he wants to see you.”_

_“Who is he?”_

_“He is-” He didn’t know how to explain.. “He is someone I have known for a long time.”_

_She was watching his face closely. “You don’t like him?”_

_He was at a loss for words._ **_Did_ ** _he like Fen’harel? What kind of relationship did they have, outside of their uneasy truce?  “I do not believe he will harm you,” he said, at long last._

_“But you don’t like him.”_

_“It is- complicated.” He sighed. “He has been both good and bad, as have I. What is important, though, is that he has some knowledge about- about your Shaping?”_

_She perked up at that, opaline eyes shining. “He knows about the Call?”_

_How much should he tell her? He didn’t know. What Solas had told him… it was not his to share._

_“He- I believe he can help you,” it came out slowly, and if he were being honest with himself, unwillingly._

_She searched his face for what felt like an eternity. “All right,” she said, quietly, somberly. “I’d like to meet him.” She turned away from him, and it felt as though he had disappointed her somehow._

_He nearly told her the whole story. Nearly._

_But he could not. He could not._

_It was not his to share._

“El’u’en!” her voice broke his reverie. “Where is this friend of yours?”

“He should be here soon.”

She bounded over to join him. “Tell me about him?”

He sighed. “I have told you before, Theneras. I do not wish to influence your mind before you meet him.”

“At least tell me his name!”

He stared out into the jumble of trees in the distance. Had there been some movement there-?

“El’u’en?” she prompted.

“Solas,” he replied distractedly. “His name is Solas.”

He saw her go still from the corner of his eye. “Solas?” she echoed softly.

He turned his attention from the dark woods. “Yes,” he watched her carefully.

Her brows knitted together. “I- I feel like I’ve heard that name- I- I think I-” She raised troubled eyes to meet his. “I feel like- like I _know_ him.”

There was a rock where his stomach was. “I- you- how do you-” he babbled. Thankfully, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

Striding towards them purposefully was Solas. El’u’en noted, with a frown, that he had eschewed his usual armor in favor of more simpler clothing.

 _Very_ simple attire. If El’u’en did not know him so well he would have mistaken Solas for a _hobo_ . What he wore was so- so _plain_ , so bland, and yet El’u’en was struck with the impression that the other man’s choice had been deliberate. A threadbare cream tunic over a faded black shirt, fern-green coat covered in patches. No boots, only leather strips wrapped up to his knee to protect his feet.

What kind of game was he playing?

El’u’en waited till the Wolf caught up with them before making introductions. “Theneras,” he began, secretly pleased by the way she stuck to his side, “this is Solas, the frien- the person I was telling you about.”

Solas’ gaze was fixed on Theneras; if it weren’t for the slight tilt of his head to acknowledge his greeting, El’u’en wouldn’t have known he was paying attention.

“Theneras.” A hidden emotion flitted over Solas’ face, gone too quickly before El’u’en could name it. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” The _at last_ was heavily implied in the silence that followed.

Theneras cautiously put her hand into Solas’ outstretched one. “El’u’en says you can tell me more about- about the Call I heard?”

There was a definite guilt in the way Solas frowned. “I- I can,” the Wolf faltered, as though struggling to find the right words. “But- but there is much I have to share, if you would listen.”

She stepped away from him, and El’u’en felt strangely bereft. Even stranger was the sudden, overwhelming desire to whisk her away from here, from Solas, away from this knowledge that would irrevocably change her; he wanted to take her back to the place she called home, where he could protect her from all the evils that had befallen her…

His hands clenched into fists. He turned and walked away a few paces, enough to give them some privacy, but close enough to keep an eye on Theneras.

Low murmurs, as Solas began his tale. El’u’en heard the change in inflection in his tone, the rise and fall as the Wolf laid his guilt and shame bare before her.

He heard nothing from her, and that worried him.

It was a long while before the Wolf finished speaking his truth. When El’u’en faced them once again, he found Theneras standing stone-still, Solas’ hands stretched out beseechingly towards her. He knew what the Wolf had asked for.

Forgiveness.

He watched Theneras. Would she grant Solas what he so desperately sought? Or would the knowledge he’d given her fill her heart with bitterness and poison her?

He did not want her to forgive him; neither did he want her to suffer the venom that was resentment.

But when she finally spoke, it was not to the Wolf.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

It was softly said, so soft that he would have had to struggle to hear it had he not been on alert.

El’u’en pretended he hadn’t. “Hmmm?”

“You knew.” Her voice raised in pitch, tone accusatory, as she strode towards him. “You knew the truth. You knew what _he_ -” she jabbed a finger in Solas’ direction, “-had done. You knew _everything_ , and _you didn’t tell me_!”

She placed her hands on his chest and gave him a shove. Caught off-guard, he stumbled backwards. “You knew, and you lied to me! You’re both _liars_ !” She stared up at him, tears filling and overflowing from her opaline eyes. “I never thought _you_ would lie to me. But now- now it makes sense.”

“Theneras, please,” he took a step towards her, “please, listen to me-” he pleaded.

“NO!” she held out a hand, forcing him to a halt. “No. _I know who you are._ ” she spat out, and El’u’en recoiled when he caught sight of the knowledge in her eyes.  I don’t want to listen anymore!” She whirled around to face Solas. “How could you. How could you! Haven’t you done enough to me? Wasn’t it enough, how much I suffered for you? How much I suffered _because_ of you? Could you not even give me peace after I _died_? And now you ask me for forgiveness? Why should I be merciful to you, when you had no mercy for me?”

“Please- Sylvas, please, it was not-”

Theneras interrupted the Wolf, her voice so icy El’u’en felt a shiver run up his spine. “ _My name is Theneras.”_

And with that, the young woman turned and fled in the direction of the dark woods.

El’u’en saw a shadow flit between the trees.

Solas inhaled sharply. The two men shared a look of alarm, before chasing after her.

“Theneras!” El’u’en called out. “I know you’re angry,” he jumped over a particularly large rock, “but please- stop! _There’s something in the woods!”_

Beside him, Solas was calling out similar warnings.

But she was too fast for them, too nimble. She ran headfirst into the tangle of trees, and vanished from their sight.

The two men heard a cry of distress.

_Theneras._

Willing his legs faster, fear pounding in his chest, El’u’en entered the forest.

She was nowhere in sight.

The only thing that told them of her presence…

…was a splash of red on the leaf-covered ground.

* * *

  _ **6: 42 Post Fall, Adahl’shena’man, Fel’vun’in, Asan’uan**  _

“I- I was wrong, so many times. The ways I have hurt you- I- I know they are unforgivable. Yet- _vhenan_ ,” - and there was a new word, but she was too confused, too stunned, to _horrified_ to try and delve into what it meant- “I- I have never forgotten you. Never. You- you were- _are_ -” the man called Pride looked at her, ad his eyes were filled with tears and his gaze was full of remorse. “I-I know I do not deserve it, and- and I would not blame you if you could not find it within you to- please, my heart. I- can you-” His breath hitched on a sob, and she had to stifle the strangest urge to hug him, to soothe him. “Can you forgive me?”

She stared blankly at him. He was tall, taller even than El’u’en, she thought. Red-brown hair fell past his shoulders in neat little braids, and his eyes- his eyes were blue and silver, and she- she knew them. She knew his eyes.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again-

-and the memories _slammed_ into her.

She remembered his face now, clearly. He was dressed in the same kind of clothing he’d worn then, when he had been but a mild-mannered apostate who walked quietly and said little. She felt the sweetness of their love burst through her veins, how it had filled her heart and the very entirety of her being- and how crumbled she had been when he’d broken her secret dreams.

She touched her lips involuntarily as the memory of the way he’d kissed her burst forth.

There was so much pain, so much bitterness, and yet all she could focus on was that need-y, ache-y, yearning feeling - the sensation of _pining_ \- of wanting to love, to be loved so desperately, but always being denied. Of all that he’d done, what hurt the most was that she’d been denied the only thing she’d ever wanted of him - the chance to love him, and to be loved in return - freely, without guile or guise.

That denial of a simple wish had split her into duality - and _this_ part of her had little sympathy for him.

Maybe Love had been right. Maybe that was why she always had that ache-y, yearning feeling, because what she wanted most was love.

And now he was standing before her, with tears in his eyes and a heart filled with sorrow, and he wanted her forgiveness.

She had no mercy within her. Why should she, when he had had none for her?

She turned to El’u’en, who she had so innocently considered a friend. But now, now she knew who he was. She let loose her fury, but even spitting out her rage did nothing for the images in her head, or the roiling emotions within her.

She felt trapped, like she was being smothered under a heap of cloth and she- she was falling, drowning-

She ran.

The images began to dissipate.

The faster she ran, the more her memories- and more importantly, those _emotions_ \- receded. So she kept running. Let her feet take her- where, she did not know.

She ignored the calls from behind her.

The woods were getting darker, and the trees began to loom menacingly over her. She slowed down, suddenly wary, and came to a halt.

Something moved-

-there was something in the shadows-

The next moment _it_ came out, and she stared at it, half-fascinated, half-horrified. It was a large, misshapen thing; a creature that looked like it had once been a person, but it had no mouth, and only deep hollows where a nose and eyes should have been. It shuffled across the ground towards her, dragging the large, skeletal, broken wings that sprouted from its back along the forest floor.

She knew, then, that this was the demon that El’u’en had warned her about.

She moved backwards. She- she needed to- needed to get away from it-

 _It_ lashed out at her, with arms that were not arms and fingers that were too sharp. There was a flash of pain, and she felt her tunic grow damp.

Strange.

She looked down. There was red on her clothes. She touched the place where it hurt. It hurt more, and when she took her hand away, her fingers were also red.

Red like-

She screamed. Turned around to flee-

 _It_ caught her, sharp fingers digging cruelly into her sides. Lifted her off the ground. She cried when her wounds met its hard, bony shoulder.

She tried to call El’uen for help. She did, over and over, but her voice would not work. It had been stolen by the demon.

She wept as _it_ took her deeper into the woods. As it took her further away from safety.

She didn’t know where it was going. The land around her was different - the earth was burned and blackened, and the air was filled with something that was bitterest smoke and sickly-sweet. There were few people here, but they were not filled with sadness and guilt. These people scared her; they had so much darkness in them. They did not fear the darkness. They _liked_ the darkness. They _wanted_ the darkness.

They- they- she panicked when she sensed what they felt. They _created_ the darkness.

She cried out. For El’u’en.

For Solas.

For both of them.

 _It_ finally stopped at another fortress; this one a dark, towering, menacing thing, with spiky walls and sharp towers that tried to stab the sky. She did not want to go in, but she didn’t have a choice; she hung where she was, limply.

She was too tired to fight.

She was too scared to shut her eyes.

The inside was filled with the scent of death and decay; she thought of Valor then, how jagged he had been with the darkness, and wondered if he, too, had been brought here. Strange sounds echoed in the air; and she knew some to be the cries of those who had fear within them.

 _It_ entered a large wall and stopped. Lifting her from its shoulder, _it_ threw her onto the ground, and she screamed when she hit the hard, cold floor.

She curled up where she was, too terrified to look around.

“And what do we have here?” A smooth voice, a man’s voice, clear and melodious - but she could sense the malice radiating off the person who spoke. She trembled.

The man laughed. It was not a nice sound. “I see you’ve found my dear brother’s pet. Well done!” She heard footsteps on the ground, circling her. “You may feed, now. Take your pick from the dungeons.” She heard a strange buzz, and then there was silence once again.

Fingers sank into her hair, gripped her skull. Her head was yanked backwards with an almost inhuman force, and she finally was face-to-face with the person _it_ served.

His skin was the color of the studs that both El’u’en and Solas wore in their ears, a honey gold, but there was something cold that lurked beneath the surface. His eyes were a deep green with sparks of red madness in their center. Hair the color of sunlight fell onto his forehead. He was crafted to look and sound as appealing as a person could be, yet everything about him screamed danger to her.

She struggled in his grasp - weakly, but still she did, the sense of self-preservation strong within her.

It amused him. “Do you think you can escape me, pet?” he crooned. “Men far stronger than you have tried - and failed.” He smiled, sharp teeth glinting even sharper in the firelight. “They _always_ fail.”

“Who are you?” she said, her voice raspy with fear.

He dragged her to her feet, his grip on her hair unyielding. He examined her face. When she tried to look away, he turned her gaze back to his. _Tsk-tsking_ , he licked his thumb and wiped something on her cheek.

“Who are you?” she whispered again.

He released her.

She tried to move. Something was- there was something on her. Something around her. Like- like cobwebs. Something- she couldn’t see it, but she could feel it; it was heavy, and it was- it was _dark_ and she didn’t- she didn’t want it, but she couldn’t _see_ it to remove it…

He smiled. “I am Falon’din, pet.” He spread his hands out wide. “Welcome home.”

* * *

**_6: 43 Post Fall, Alas’mamae’man, Ghi’lan’vun’in_**

She’d encountered hate before;  quick, fiery flashes that burst through people in El’u’en’s fortress - but never long enough for her to fully comprehend what it was. All she’d known of it was that it was a vile thing, a dark thing, a bleak thing that drove people to do unspeakable acts, to speak unforgivable words.

That was until Falon’din.

She hated him. Hated him so deeply, so wholly that she knew she was forever changed by it - and that was yet another thing she hated him for.

It was a never-ending thing, an emotion she had no escape from. He ruled with fear, and took vicious glee in the knowledge that no one dared to oppose him. His very company - to which she was constantly subjected to - made her insides boil with the thick, viscous blackness of hate.

He had taken many things from her. Because of him, she knew what true evil was. Knew how power drove people mad. Watched as his men tortured those who were weaker than them (and hadn’t it been a terrible, awful thing, to watch as those who were helpless screamed and cried and begged; how much it had hurt inside her, twisted inside her to have been forced to stand and do nothing, to say nothing - it was everything against her nature, to be put into this place of compelled apathy).

She hated that she knew all that she did, and she hated that it was Falon’din who had so cruelly taught her.

He’d delved into her mind, breaking down any barriers she might have put up; searched through every one of her secrets till he knew her like no other had. He’d seen who she had been, and laughed a whole day at knowing that the Dread Wolf cared for her.

He was doing her a favor, he claimed, by teaching her. That he was only bringing to her attention what she already knew.

But she was still so _new_. She was not the entirety of who she had once been; she was a fraction that had grown to a whole, and she had still so much to learn, about herself, about being Shaped, had yet to wholly process all that she’d been and all that she now was- she did not want to know what he was heaping upon her.

But.

Falon’din made her learn. Just like the way he made her stay.

With force.

He made her watch as his guards tormented his prisoners. There was no sweetness there, not like Shiv’an and Ro’gath. Power-hungry madness clashed with fear and hopelessness. She wanted to scream, but Falon’din whispered threats into her ear that stole her voice.

He took vicious pleasure in introducing her to all the things that no sane person would enjoy. He showed her what senseless violence was, how  those who had the darkness within them feasted in the crimson that leaked out of skin. Made her watch as he glutted himself, while those around him starved. Pushed  her into the world of darker, baser desires, laughing each time she attempted to flee.

But no matter how much she tried, she could not escape. And then- and then, she stopped trying.

Because the only reward for her defiance was suffering.

He pressed obedience on her, not in the way El’u’en had - through kindness and patience and mutual respect - but through fear and brutality.

She learned not to speak, unless he asked her to. Moved only where she was ordered. Her eyes and ears were governed by him.

She had no sanctuary. Not even sleep gave her the respite of entering the Dreaming. Falon’din would not let her into the Dreaming. The circlet around her neck kept her tethered to the Waking, always.

She felt herself vanishing. Felt something dark take root within her.

But she had no strength to fight against it.

She could hear footsteps on the stairs. They were getting closer. She huddled herself tighter in the corner.

The door flew open, slammed against the wall. She winced. He was loud, always loud.

“There you are, pet.”

She despised his voice. It made her feel- feel unclean. But not like- she didn’t need a bath. She’d just taken one- but he- he made her feel _wrong_.

“Come here.”

She didn’t want to go. But she knew it would be worse if she didn’t. He would-

Her back still hurt where he’d hit her last night.

She got up. Her legs felt shaky. She thought she might fall.

She didn’t. She stood in front of him.

“Look at me.”

She didn’t want to. But-

She looked at him.

“That’s a good girl,” he crooned. It sounded sweet, but wrong. Everything about Falon’din was wrong. “Come, sit next to me.”

She didn’t want-

-she sat. His legs were touching hers.

“Good girl.” He patted the top of her head. Began stroking her hair.

Fear stiffened her spine. “Wh-what are y-you doing?”

Falon’din leaned into her, pressed his nose to the side of her neck. “Don’t you know?”

“N-no-”

He stopped. She felt overwhelmingly relieved. What he had been doing- what he had planned- she didn’t want to know.

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

His eyes bored into her, searching. She shuddered at his intrusion.

He started to chuckle. “You really don’t know.” His laughter grew louder, more maniacal. “Well, well. Who would have thought that the keeper of secrets would keep such a secret from such a pretty thing like you, hmm?”

She didn’t like the way he laughed and looked at her. She wanted to hide.

She wanted El’u’en.

“And especially since he seems to care so much about you.” Falon’din cupped her jaw, his fingers pressing into her cheeks, the soft flesh of her mouth grating against her teeth. “Now, why do you think that is?”

“I-I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Do you know,” he crooned to her, his voice soft and sickly-sweet, “that you are the first woman to have taken Shape in so, so very long?”

Her heart hammered within her. Fear threatened to choke her.

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“You are so new, pet. So fresh. So young, so… _innocent_ . So soft and sweet. And-” he leaned into her again. Licked up her jaw to her temple - she shivered in disgust. It had felt so- so _slimy_ . “I bet you’d taste _delicious._ ”

“Please don’t,” she begged, her voice a whisper.

His hands moved to her wrists. She was helpless as he pinned her arms behind her back.

Tears - unbidden, entirely instinctual - began to roll, slowly, down her face.

Falon’din wrapped the hem of her tunic around his fist. Gave a violent tug. She screamed at the ripping sound it made.

And then the pretty-looking god with the ugly heart stopped abruptly.

Through the windows, a harsh sound drifted in, high-pitched and urgent. She’d never heard anything sweeter.

He bared his teeth at her. Caught her face with a brutal backhand, made her see stars.

“I will have you yet, pet,” he snarled. She trembled at the savagery in his tone. “My brother would try to intrude?” He grabbed her arm, dragged her to the window.

In the distance, she could make out a man, with a staff. She knew the staff. Lightning-struck wood, El’u’en had called it. The core of it pulsed with an eternally-burning flame.

Her heart began to hope.

A deep roar shook the walls. A wolf, blacker than the dead of night, with six eyes that glowed with the red of blood moved to stand next to El’u’en.

“Look,” Falon’din pressed her face against the window. “Take your fill of your lovers now, for you shall never see them again.” He whispered venomously into her ear, “I shall slaughter my brother and the Wolf, and bathe you in their blood, my pet.”

The hope she felt had little chance against his vituperous threats. Fear was once again all she knew. She breathed for mercy - for herself, for El’u’en, for Solas, for all of them, she didn’t know, but she pleaded - but he who thought himself a friend of death would not listen.

She cowered in the corner of a tiny room, wrapped in chains that barely let her breathe. She could hear nothing, could see nothing, could speak nothing. All that was in her head was the malicious promise Falon’din had made before he left her in the dark.

_If I cannot have you pet, then no one shall._

* * *

**_6: 43 Post Fall, Alas’mamae’man, Ghi’lan’vun’in_**

El’u’en had known that his brother was mad, but not even he had expected this amount of cold-blooded callousness. The lands that Daur’an owned were devoid of any sign of healthy life. The very air thrummed with gleeful misery.

He exchanged a worried look with Solas. He knew the Wolf had the same thought in his mind as he himself did-

 _Were they too late_?

When they had found Theneras missing, it had taken them very little time to figure out who the culprit was. Only a demon could have taken her, and only Falon’din commanded demons.

And only his brother could twist those who were Shaped _into_ demons.

He did not want to think of Theneras suffering such a fate.

Solas had scoured the Dreaming, searching for any signs of her presence. But the spirits who wandered the Fade had not seen her, and it was clear that Daur’an had done something to prevent her from entering the Dreaming.

El’u’en knew, as did Solas, that for someone as newly Shaped as Theneras, entering the Dreaming during sleep was vital. It kept them from going insane with shock. That she had not been in the Dreaming for even a single day since her capture did not bode well-

-he pushed the thought from his mind.

The Wolf took the form of his namesake, and the two men charged at the grimly beautiful fortress. The tenuous, uncertain peace that the three once-gods had, had been broken because of a single woman - a woman they both loved.

It had taken far too long for El’u’en to realize that he loved Theneras.

They - the man who’d encountered her in her past, and the one who’d met her in her present - fought through the hordes of sadistic demons and monstrous men who served Falon’din. El’u’en had seen many horrors - had committed even more when he called himself Dirthamen - but even he was sickened by the murderous brutes his brother had turned his people into.

Despite being the creator of such ruthless fiends, Falon’din was a coward, and was nowhere to be seen. El’u’en and Solas inched their way into the fortress, using the sum of all their battle experience to turn the tide to their favor. Hallways were emptied of the enemy, and rooms were cleared. As they made their way through the twisted, winding corridors with their many illusions and dangerous wards, neither man caught sight of either their target, or her captor.

The enemy’s number dwindled, and El’u’en began to despair. Had his brother succeeded in turning Theneras into a demon? Had she been one of the many demons he had fought - and slain?

He voiced his fear aloud to Solas.

“You are tethered to her, as am I,” the Wolf reminded him. “I do not sense her absence. Do you?”

He did not. That knowledge bolstered his courage.

He found his brother at the top of a flight of stairs. He knew that they lead to Daur’an’s bedchamber.

Daur’an smiled. It was wide and smug and sadistic.

“Where is she, Daur’an?” El’u’en asked.

“Why, if you wanted her you should have just asked, brother,” Daur’an’s mouth turned mocking. “I have no more need for her. Come, get her if you will.”

“What have you done?” he whispered, horrified. Beside him, he heard Solas inhale, a sharp sound.

“I was hungry,” his brother’s teeth shone viciously in the light of the spell that surrounded him.

“You lie,” Solas sounded calm, but El’u’en could feel the rage that buffeted off him in waves. “If you had- she would have truly become corrupted. She would have twisted. I- we would have sensed it! Where is she?”

The smile left Daur’an’s face, replaced by a scowl. “You will _never_ find her,” the threat sounded like a promise. “If I cannot have her-” he turned and fled down the corridor.

El’u’en did not wait even a breath before charging up the stairs. His brother- he knew Daur’an’s appetite for all things pretty and new and shiny. And Theneras was all three.

He also knew, all too sickeningly well, that his brother _hated_ to share.

He still bore the stain of selfishness upon his soul. He would not let another fall to Falon’din’s vanity.

The glyphs on the floor and walls tore at his defenses, but he heeded them not. The Wolf, wily as he was, dismantled the worst of them with little effort. Soon - all too soon - they accosted his brother at the top of the highest tower, so high up in the sky that the Fade swirled all around them.

“Where is she?” he asked again, this time a plea.

“Kill me, and you shall never know.”

“And yet if we let you live, you will twist her very nature,” Solas - ever the voice of reason - pointed out.

“ _You_ have done worse things to her, Wolf. You would dare judge _me_?”

El’u’en relished the flicker of guilt and dismay that flashed across the Wolf’s face - only momentarily. He knew he could not afford to let his brother divide them now. “And knowing of all that she has been through, you would torment her even now?”

“She is _mine_!” Daur’an roared, a sound of vain madness, and charged at them. But they were prepared, and he raised his staff at the same time Solas did, and they struck the ground in unison, and the air around them grew unbearably hot and the Fade began to vibrate-

“Would you kill your own brother, Dirthamen?” the power-hungry god, now on his knees, asked.

El’u’en looked down at his brother. Falon’din’s hair was in disarray, and his white teeth were stained red with his own blood. All that was beautiful about him was pretty no longer. His brother was at last stripped to root, and laid bare for all the world to see.

Only the Wolf and he were witness to his downfall.

“I have done worse, brother.” El’u’en raised his staff. “I was with you when we slaughtered our mother.”

He brought his staff down, and Falon’din was no more.

* * *

**_6: 43 Post Fall, Alas’mamae’man, Hamiin’vun’in_ **

The two men searched Falon’din’s bedchambers, and came across a small closet that looked almost like it should not have been there. Solas opened the charmed door, and revealed - at long last - the woman they had searched so long and so hard for.

Theneras.

She was pale and thin, so thin her bones nearly jutted out through her skin. One eye was freshly blackened, and her tunic hung off her frame in tatters. For all her physical frailness, what alarmed El’u’en the most was the look in her good eye.

When she caught sight of him, she began to weep, and the sound moved him to tears - the excess of his rage and his relief given an outlet. He undid the chains that bound her, and she flung herself at him, linking her arms around his neck as though he were the only thing keeping her latched to life.

She wept and wept, till his armor was soaked through and the shirt he wore over his skin was damp. He murmured to her, soft tunes crooned into the shell of her ear, slowly easing her away from him so he could see for himself the entirety of damage Falon’din had wrecked on her.

She looked haunted and hopeless, her shoulders stooping like she walked the cliffside of absolute despair. She had a bleakness within her, a darkness that had yet to fully sprout, and if she was not given help - if she was not offered the _right_ kind of aid - it would turn her into the very thing she feared.

And El’u’en knew - and hated that he knew so - that he could not help her.

“Fadewalker,” he addressed Solas as the other man wrapped a sheet around Theneras. “You must take her with you.”

She protested, quietly, weakly. She spoke his name in a plea.

He took her hands in his, like he had the first time he had seen her, so soon after she had Shaped. “I would take you with me, sweet one, but you- you are damaged, and I am not the one who can help you.”

“El’u’en, _please_.” The sound of her begging tore his insides to shreds. He did not want to deny her, but deny her he must. For her own sake.

If it turned her heart against him- he felt his heart break at the prospect. If it turned her heart against him- he turned away before she could see the tears that escaped. If it turned her heart against him, then he would accept that as the price he had to pay for all the suffering he had caused the world when he was Dirthamen.

“Solas,” he spoke to the Wolf, his voice soft. “Take her with you. You know the Fade better than I do, and you know the spirits who wander its lands. If anyone can repair the damage my brother has wrought upon her, it is you.”

Solas said nothing, only looked at him searchingly. El’u’en nodded slowly. “Keep her safe, Wolf. If she comes to harm- I will kill you with my own hands.”

The Wolf spoke, his voice grave. “If she comes to harm because of me, I will bare my throat to you willingly.”

The two men shared a look of understanding.

El’u’en spoke to her - whether it was for the last time, he did not know. “Will you go with Solas?” he asked. “I wish I could help you, but I cannot. And I could not live with myself if I did not do all I could to help you get better. Will you go with the Wolf?”

She looked at him with those opaline eyes, so wide and open with trust. “Will it make you happy?”

“It would, sweet one.”

“Will you come for me, when I get better?”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He brought her knuckles to his face, brushed his lips across them.

She smiled at that, a small one, a cautious one, but it felt as though the sun had burst through his horizon to light up his sky.

She turned and moved towards Solas, her shoulders still stiff with apprehension. El’u’en watched the Wolf whisper into Theneras’ ear. Watched as Theneras calmed down, and took a shaky breath. Watched, helplessly, as Theneras nodded her agreement.

Watched as Theneras slipped her hand into Solas.

Watched as the two walked away.

He knew he had done the right thing. He knew that. His people did not call Solas the Fadewalker for no reason. And yet-

And yet El’u’en had the strangest impulse to run after them and take Theneras with him. To take her _home_.

He did not think it would be much of a home, without her.

He forced himself to turn away. There were other matters for him to tend to. He needed tend to his people, to help those who were wounded. He needed to destroy Falon’din’s fortress, to clear away the haze of evil that permeated the land.

He needed to get Theneras- he shook his head.

He would get her, he told himself. Later, when she was healthier. He would go see her. And he would bring her home. If-

-if she still thought of him as home.

* * *

**_6: 55 Post Fall, Vare’eir’man, Syl’vun’in_**

Solas’ fortress was- different. Much different that Falon’din’s, different even from El’u’en’s.  It was smaller, and simpler. There was a wall, tall and sturdy, but within it were smaller- houses, Solas had called them, and she took the sight of them in with wide eyes. Within the walls, there were people - like the people in El’u’en’s home - and there was grass on the ground, green and soft. The trees stood tall, with leaves of orange and red and green and yellow, and it soothed her because the sight of them was familiar.

It was peaceful here. The people had the same hurts inside them as they had at home - where El’u’en resided. Solas gently explained that they had lived for so very long, and seen so many things, that they had been changed by the sum of their experiences.

“Will I change?” she asked.

“You will,” he said. “But we will try to keep the light within you,” he promised with a kind smile.

She liked Solas.

She knew all he had done - not just to her, a lifetime ago, but to the world. He had existed for so long, it defied her imagination. He was like El’u’en, a man who had seen and done things both good and terrible, and now lived with the remorse and guilt of his actions. She knew him to be a man who had fought for what was good, and in his quest to do so had gone astray. His pride had been his weakness, but in the present, in the here and now, he was a modest man, humbled not by the mistakes he’d made but the loss of his heart.

She could sense the sadness within him if she focused, the longing that filled him each time he looked at her; but to his credit, he never let it show, never spoke to her of it. He walked with her in the Waking, introducing her to spirits she had never met before - Compassion, Perseverance, Command, Faith. He told her stories of good men and their deeds, showed her, by example, what it was to be gentle and calm and kind - and in doing so, helped the darkness within her to shrink, just a little. It would never fully go - Solas had told her, a muted kind of sadness in his tone, that if she chose to, Compassion could take away the worst of what she’d experienced, could make her lighter. He explained, in his kind way, that if she kept her memories it would change her - though she had the power within her to direct the way that change would take shape.

She thought she understood, and it was when she spoke with Compassion that she realized what the Wolf had meant. If she chose to erase her experiences, she would forget much of her Shaped nature, could even slip back into the Dreaming if she chose to.

But she did not think she wanted to. She was no longer tethered to the Waking. She had sprouted her own roots.

She found Solas talking with a spirit one day, one who had taken the form of a young woman. He introduced her to Wisdom, a small, sad smile on his face as he did so, and Wisdom explained that the Wolf sorrowed because the spirit was not what she once had been.

“Neither am I,” she said.

“And he blames himself for that,” Wisdom replied. “He believes we are the results of decisions and choices - both big and small - that he made.”

She pondered about that for several moments. “How can that be?” she asked. “For that to have happened, he needed to have directed the choices of a hundred others.”

“Indeed - yet he cannot bring himself to see that. Perhaps you can make him see,” Wisdom said simply before she flitted away to the deeper Dreaming.

And she tried. She asked him if he blamed her for having to kill Falon’din. He asked her if she blamed him for encountering the demon.

He cried when he asked for her forgiveness (again - though this time she did not know why, for he had done nothing wrong to her) saying that it had taken him and El’u’en time to raise forces against Falon’din, and neither of them had thought it would take as long as it had - (she asked him then, if he made Falon’din do all the things to her he did, and it was then that the Wolf began to understand that perhaps not _all_ the blame was his-)

Of all the spirits that she met, it was Compassion who was most taken with her. It was Compassion who touched the hurt within her, who gave voice to what she could not understand herself. He took her, one bright day, high, high up the mountains, where rubbled walls and stone lay strewn about, half-buried in snow.

“Do you know this place?” he asked.

She looked around. The scene was strange and new, though the air felt familiar. “I feel as though I should,” she replied slowly. “Why?”

“This is where you once were. Where what you had with the Wolf bloomed, a bond bright and bold that never truly broke,” Compassion took her hand, and walked her to where a round wall still stood, proud and tall. “This is what you did,” he spoke softly, pointing to towering images of color. “He made them so none would forget.” She looked up at them, one by one, and tried to understand - and what she did not understand the spirits showed her.

There she once was, sitting by the Wolf’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. There again she was, and she could feel within her the love that she had held - so tightly, for it had been so precious - for the Wolf.

Yet, she did not _fully_ understand. She felt- she felt as though something was missing.

She felt- who she had been was incomplete. Who she was now was- was only a _part_?

And she still had so many questions. About love - about what her love for the Wolf had once been, about what the Wolf considered love.

Because-

“I loved him,” she asked Compassion, “and he loved me; why, then, did he do all that he did to me?”

“He did not have the knowledge of how it was to lose something that is beyond understanding.” Compassion was cryptic. “Of all the mistakes he has made, you were his greatest one.”

She thought of El’u’en. He was dark and light inside, just like Solas. But he had never done to her what Solas had-

-and though he had not Called her, he had always been there for her.

Compassion sighed. “I hoped to heal the hurt,” he said. “But it is not this life, either.”

She understood. Placed her hand on his shoulder, sympathetic. “No, not this life,” she agreed.

When they returned to Solas’ fortress, both he and El’u’en were waiting for her.

“Where have you been?” Solas was frantic.

“I went with Compassion,” she explained. “He took me to _tara’syl’an tel’as_.”

Both men stilled. “You went to Skyhold?” Solas asked quietly, hopefully. She did not notice El’u’en walking away.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I saw the murals. I saw the memories.”

“And?” the Wolf’s eyes never left her face.

She took in a deep breath. “You told me, once, a lifetime ago - _In another life_.” She did not break his gaze. “But it is not this life, Solas.”

“Theneras-”

“What I felt for you was- was true and deep,” she continued. “But I am not who I was anymore. Nor do I have any wish to be.”

Solas had tears in his eyes. She felt sad for him. She took his hands in hers. “I forgive you for all that you once did to me, Solas,” she offered. “And I think of you as a true friend. I- I want you to find your happiness.”

“I- I do not think I can.”

“You can,” she nodded decisively, “and you will. I am not the entirety of what I once was, you see.”

His face was equal parts shock, and hope.

“Yes,” she confirmed his silent question. “I cannot give you what you wish, for I do not have it. Love waits, and searches for you, Wolf. Search for her. Find her. And in _this_ life-” she smiled. “Do not let her go.”

“Never,” he vowed. He turned her hands over, and pressed his lips to the center of her palms. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for helping me, my friend.”

“What will you do now?” he asked her knowingly.

She turned to where El’u’en stood by the gates. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was bowed low. “Now,” she replied softly, “I go home.”

* * *

  **_6: 55 Post Fall, Vare’eir’man, Syl’vun’in_**

El’u’en tried his best to hold himself together. _Just a little while longer_ , he thought to himself. _Just say goodbye, and you can leave._ He started in surprise when he felt someone touch his arm.

“Theneras?” he asked, staring at her in disbelief.

“Can we go home?” she asked.

He blinked at her. Once. Twice. Then found his voice. “You- you want to go home?” he echoed blankly.

She nodded.

“You want to come- _with me_?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” she said quietly. Slipped her hand into his.

“But- but- are you _sure_? What about- I thought- don’t you want to stay with Solas?”

She looked hurt, but as she processed what he was asking, her face cleared up. “No,” she replied simply. “He is not what I need.”

“But-”

“I am not what he needs,” she added firmly.

“You want to come home with me? But-” he gripped her shoulders tightly, looked her straight in the eye. He- he wouldn’t lie to her. She needed to know the truth, and then choose- “I- I am not a nice person- you- you know all what I have done- are you sure?”

She covered his hands with hers. “You are both dark and light.” She twined her fingers with his. “I am light, and a little bit dark, too. You can help me. I can help you.” She smiled, a crooked, nervous one. “I love you.”

He pulled her against his chest at that, wrapped his arms tight around her. Cried unashamedly as he said, “I love you, too.” Theneras snuggled against him, content. He held her there, equally content.

El’u’en looked at Solas. The other man was the very picture of longing, but the Wolf gave him a smile, and a nod, and El’u’en understood.

“Promise you will never leave me?” he asked.

“I promise,” she replied, and the word reverberated through his chest.

“Come,” he took her hand. It was warm and welcome. “Let’s go home.”

  
  
  
  


=the end=

**Author's Note:**

> El'u'en - Secrets  
> Daur'an - Malice  
> Solas - Pride
> 
> * * *
> 
> A while ago, I was thinking about Lavellan and Solas (as I tend to do, haha) and it got me thinking about their future. What would happen to them if Solas succeeded? How much can their love weather? That got me thinking about how it would be if Lavellan died, and was turned into a spirit. Would Solas search for her? If she were reborn, would she want to be with him again, knowing of all he had done to her?
> 
> This was initially supposed to be my attempt to reunite Solas and Lavellan, of sorts. But then when I started writing, it got away from me, and it didn't feel right to have Theneras reuniting with Solas. 
> 
> This is also my first time at a different writing style. I wanted to keep it short and clipped in an attempt to convey more emotion. I have no idea whether or not I succeeded, but I did enjoy writing it!


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